CHAPTER XVI

The Kind-hearted Dr. Losberne

In a handsome, comfortably furnished room there sat two ladies at a breakfast table. Mr. Giles, dressed neatly in the black suit of a butler, was waiting upon them. Of the two ladies one was advanced in years, but she sat upright in her chair, with her hands folded on the table before her. Her eyes were attentively fixed upon her young companion.

The young lady was in the lovely bloom and springtime of womanhood. She was not past seventeen; she had such a slight and delicate form, she was so mild and gentle, so pure and beautiful, that earth seemed not her element, nor its rough creatures her fit companions.

"And Brittles has been gone more than an hour, has he?" asked the old lady, after a pause.

"An hour and twelve minutes, ma'am," replied Mr. Giles, consulting a silver watch which he drew forth with a black ribbon. At this moment a carriage drove up to the garden gate, out of which there jumped a fat gentleman who ran straight up to the door and, bursting into the room, nearly overturned Mr. Giles and the breakfast table together.

"I never heard of such a thing!" exclaimed the fat gentleman. "My dear Mrs. Maylie—bless my soul—in the silence of the night, too—I never heard of such a thing!"

With these exclamations, the fat gentleman shook hands with both ladies, and, drawing up a chair, inquired how they found themselves.

"Why didn't you send? Bless me, my assistant should have come in a minute; and so would I. Dear, dear! So unexpected! In the silence of night, too!"

The doctor seemed especially troubled by the fact that the robbery had been unexpected, and attempted in the night-time; as if it were the custom of robbers to do their business at noon, and to make an appointment, by post, a day or two in advance.

"And you, Miss Rose," said the doctor, turning to the young lady, "I—"

"Oh! very much so, indeed," said Rose, interrupting; "but there is a poor creature upstairs, whom aunt wishes you to see."

"Ah! to be sure," replied the doctor, "so there is." Then, turning to Giles, he asked him to show him the way.

Talking all the way, he followed Mr. Giles upstairs, and while he is going upstairs the reader may be informed that the doctor was called Mr. Losberne, and that he was as kind and hearty as any doctor living.

The doctor remained a long time upstairs. A large box was fetched out of the carriage, and a bedroom bell was rung often. At length he returned to the ladies, looking very mysterious.

"This is a very extraordinary thing, Mrs. Maylie," said the doctor.

"He is not in danger, I hope?" said the old lady.

"I don't think he is," replied the doctor. "Have you seen the thief?"

"No," replied the old lady.

"Nor heard anything about him?"

"No."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," interrupted Mr. Giles; "but I was going to tell you about him when Dr. Losberne came in."

The fact was that Mr. Giles had received such praise of his bravery that he could not help postponing the explanation for a few happy moments.

"Rose wished to see the man," said Mrs. Maylie, "but I wouldn't hear of it."

"There is nothing very alarming in his appearance," replied the doctor. "Have you any objection to seeing him in my presence?"

"If it is necessary," replied the old lady, "certainly not."

"I think it is necessary," said the doctor; "at all events, I am quite sure you would deeply regret it if you did not. He is perfectly quiet and comfortable now. I would like you both to come and see him."

He led the way upstairs to Giles's room where, instead of the evil-faced criminal they expected to see, there lay a child upon the bed; a mere child, worn with pain and fatigue, and sunk into a deep sleep. His bandaged arm was crossed upon his breast, and his head leaned upon the other arm.

The honest doctor watched the patient in silence while the younger lady seated herself in a chair by the bedside. As she bent over the child her tears fell upon his forehead. The boy stirred, and smiled in his sleep, as if these marks of pity had awakened some pleasant dream of love and affection he had never known.

"What can this mean?" exclaimed the elder lady. "This poor child can never have been the pupil of robbers!"

"My dear lady," said the doctor, sadly shaking his head, "crime, like death, is not confined to the old and ugly alone. The youngest and fairest are too often its chosen victims."

"But can you really believe that this delicate boy has been the voluntary partner of criminals?" said Rose.

The doctor shook his head, as if to say that he feared it was very possible; and, observing that they might disturb the patient, led the way into another room.

"But even if he has been wicked," pursued Rose, "think how young he is, think that he may never have known a mother's love, or the comfort of a home; that ill-treatment and blows, or the want of bread, may have driven him into the company of men who have forced him to lead a life of crime. Aunt, dear aunt, for mercy's sake, think of this, before you let them drag this sick child to a prison. Oh! as you love me, who might have been helpless and unprotected but for your goodness and affection, have pity upon him before it is too late!"

"My dear love," said the elder lady, "do you think I would harm a hair of his head? No, surely. My days are drawing to their close; and may mercy be shown to me as I show it to others! What can I do to save him, sir?"

"Let me think, ma'am," said the doctor; "let me think."

Dr. Losberne thrust his hands into his pockets, and took several turns up and down the room; often stopping and balancing himself on his toes, and frowning frightfully. After various exclamations of "I've got it now" and "no, I haven't" he at length came to a standstill.

Hour after hour passed on, and still Oliver slept heavily. It was evening, indeed, before the kind-hearted doctor brought them the news that the boy was sufficiently restored to be spoken to.

Oliver told them all his simple history, and was often compelled to stop by pain or weakness. It was a solemn thing to hear, in the darkened room, the feeble voice of the sick child narrating the many evils and misfortunes which hard men had brought upon him. But his pillow was smoothed by gentle hands that night, and beauty and virtue watched him as he slept.

Dr. Losberne went down to the kitchen to talk to Mr. Giles.

"How is the patient tonight, sir?" asked Giles.

"So-so," returned the doctor. "I am afraid you have got yourself into trouble there, Mr. Giles."

"I hope you don't mean to say, sir," said Mr. Giles, trembling, "that he's going to die. If I thought it, I should never be happy again."

"That's not the point," said the doctor mysteriously. "The point is this: are you ready to swear, you and Brittles here, that that boy upstairs is the boy that was put through the little window last night? Out with it! Come! We are prepared for you!"

The doctor made this demand in such a dreadful tone of pretended anger that Giles and Brittles stared at each other in confusion.

"Here's a house broken into," said the doctor, "and a couple of men catch one moment's glimpse of a boy, in the midst of gunpowder-smoke, and in all the confusion of alarm and darkness. Here's a boy who comes to that same house, next morning, and because he happens to have his arm tied up, these men lay violent hands upon him—by doing which they put his life in great danger—and swear he is the thief. Now, the question is, whether these men are justified in so doing. I ask you again, Giles and Brittles, are you, on your solemn oaths, able to identify that boy?"

Brittles looked doubtfully at Mr. Giles; Mr. Giles looked doubtfully at Brittles; the two women and the tinker leaned forward to listen; when a ring was heard at the gate, and at the same moment the sound of wheels. It was the police officers who had been sent for.

Dr. Losberne led them upstairs to Oliver's bedroom. Oliver had been dozing, but he was still feverish. Being assisted by the doctor, he managed to sit up in bed for a minute or so, and looked at the strangers without at all understanding what was going on.

"This," said Dr. Losberne, "is the lad who, being accidentally wounded by a spring-gun, comes to the house for assistance this morning, and is immediately arrested and ill-treated by that gentleman with the candle in his hand."

Mr. Giles was in a miserable condition of fear and amazement. The police officers questioned him; all he could say at first was that he thought the boy was the housebreaker's boy; then, on being further questioned, he said he didn't know what to think; he couldn't swear to him; at last he said that he was almost certain it wasn't the same boy.

In short, after some more examination, and a great deal more conversation, the police officers were convinced that Giles had made a stupid mistake and that Oliver had nothing to do with the housebreakers. Both policemen returned to town, and Oliver was left to the loving care of Mrs. Maylie, Rose and the kind-hearted Dr. Losberne.